To Travel Hopelessly: Five Years of Teaching English as a Foreign Language (The Burnout Trilogy Book 1) by English Teacher X

Author:English Teacher X [Teacher X, English]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-11-28T05:00:00+00:00

It was just beautiful, man.

I reamed 'em out.

There had been an incident where they'd asked me to stay after class because a popular "man in the street" program wanted to interview some people who worked in the evening (e.g. the manager) and wanted me around for comic relief. "#23: Numerous incidents of unpaid extra work (e.g. the ridiculous TV program I was forced to participate in).”

The first manager had made some vague references to getting me a housing bonus, though it wasn't in the contract. That went on the list, too.

And of course the last one: "#32: No clear dress code specified in contract. (N.B. I was hired on the condition I could dress as I liked.)"

I went into work the next day wearing my oldest jeans and T-shirt.

Mr. Efficiency saw me and stalked up to me. "Hey, what did I tell you?"

I had no hesitation. I whipped the three pages out of my folder in one smooth motion and handed them to him. "Please read this. It's a list of problems with this school. We can discuss it at your leisure."

I scuttled off to class, pleased with myself.

Amazingly, it worked.

After class he approached me, wringing his hands and considerably humbled. "Okay, please, can we talk?"

I smiled magnanimously. "Sure!"

And the internet was nothing more than a novelty in those days.

It just goes to show you: A well-written letter of complaint, appropriately presented, is worth a sucker punch to the testicles in nine cases out of 10.

Asians in particular seem to really appreciate and fear them.

I got the impression management was shaken to its very foundation by this little memo. The drunk guy and the efficient guy promised me they would bring it up with owner, and changes would be made.

This is just the kind of thing a low-level today could use to try to strategically de-face the boss as revenge, without being clearly responsible for it and putting the blame on the White Devil.

"And you know, you have beautiful handwriting," said the drunk guy.

That surprised a laugh out of me.

"No, I mean it. You should see the writing of many teachers. Terrible, just terrible!"

So I happily wore a shirt and tie to work the next day. Hell, I'm as patient and pleasant as the next guy. Really. Underneath it all.

The drunk guy resigned a few weeks later, and the efficient guy took his place.

And the guy whose cousin I'd fooled around with was now academic manager for the foreign teachers.

How much he knew about that I was never able to figure out. Surely she denied it, but the gossipy Korean teachers had seen us together a few times, so god knows what they'd told him.

And damned if they didn't start paying us a housing allowance in November!

That had mostly been bullshit anyway; they were already paying a typical salary by Seoul 1996 standards – about $20 an hour – but I managed to bang the equivalent of an extra $400 a month out of them!

They did start deducting about $100 for taxes a month though; but still, I considered it a sizable victory.

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